Return
by JasperK
Summary: After the end of it all, Vash returns to the orphanage to visit Livio... (WARNING: SPOILERS for Trigun Maximum 10,11,14 - And they are bad, do not read unless you have read those mangas)


**Manga spoilers GALORE (and these are BAD ONES – do not read further unless you have read Trigun Maximum Vol 10, 11 & 14)**

* * *

Vash walked up to the orphanage, slowly kicking his boots through the sand that had blown in drifts over the road. Three sullen young orphans were listlessly sweeping it away in the hot afternoon sun. From the black eyes and scratches they sported between them, they were learning to work out their aggression in another manner. He smiled as he walked through the gates. They stared at him and he heard whispers start up behind him as the three boys formed a tight knit group.

"It's him!" One whispered in awe.

Ah yes. Vash gazed up at the sky. Everyone knew him now. It was strange. A combination of the memory feathers that the plants had let fall and the strange television show that Meryl Stryfe and Milly Thompson had put together. Everyone knew his face and his name. But very few knew him. That was why he was here. In this place, there were people who knew him, perhaps better than most.

He came to a halt in front of the Cross Punisher which stood as a headstone for a man he could truly call his best friend.

_Yo! Wolfwood._ He thought, mimicking the man's accent and expression in his mind. _I've brought the drinks this time._

He smiled through the ache in his heart as he placed his right hand on the Cross Punisher. His fingers tracing the metal through the cloth that bound it. He looked around for the long couch they had sat on all those years back, but the place where it had stood was now enclosed by walls again. Someone had been very busy rebuilding and repairing the orphanage. He felt, somewhere deep in his heart, that he should have been there to help. That his absent wanderings from this place had been recognised. Now that he was here, it demanded his attention, and strangely his love. That was the spirit of Wolfwood calling, he knew. The man had passed on the depth of his love for the place and its children, as much as Vash knew his own philosophy had marked the life of the priest.

He walked over to the building where he had sat with Wolfwood, and peered through the window in the new wall that had been built to enclose it. That couch still stood there, the floor had a ragged carpet covering it, and children sat around a young woman with black hair. He turned away before he disturbed them. Already a few children had glanced out of the window, distracted from their story by his presence. He walked swiftly, unable in that moment to hide the aching pain he felt. It was poignant, that the place where he had last seen such sorrow and death, was a place of comfort and joy for the children that were the hope for the planet.

He raised his head and caught the eye of a tall man at the doorway of the church on the far side of the yard. The lightning tattoos prominent around his left eye, and his pale hair in a mop around his head, as though he had not bothered to brush it that morning. Livio blinked at him, and then turned to the children that were clustered around him, directing the eldest to herd the others across to the mess hall.

Vash did not know how to feel as the man hurried across the yard to him. The last time they had been here, well, there were many awful memories. Even the good ones were odd. He had a distinct recollection of eating rather too much food. Livio's eyes flicked up to his hair. Vash raised an eyebrow at that. It seemed to be the standard greeting among those who knew the significance of his black hair. It was an unavoidable statement that he was powerless and near death. He waited for the awkward silence and the uncomfortable false conversation that followed while the other person processed their own discomfort on his behalf.

"You hungry?" Livio asked.

Vash grinned at him. Then again, he was visiting old friends who understood him.

"I've learned to cook since you were last here." Livio waved a calloused hand in the direction of the dining hall.

"No salad this time." Vash murmured.

"Agreed." Livio chuckled.

The evening was long and leisurely. Vash was sure he had seen every last one of the orphans peek in through either the window and the door at him, their eyes wide. They clearly knew who he was, and did not know who Livio was. That was fine, as the children seemed to have him cast as some sort of hero in their eyes. He did not deserve it, but he would repay their kindness with a good romp around the place tomorrow. He hadn't had a chance to play wrestle kids in a while and it lifted his spirits. However, right now, he had another concern. He had bought a bottle of 'Wolfwood's Whiskey' as he had renamed the bottle, despite the label bearing a large cross with the letters B.R.I.D.E. across it. The real name made him mournful for some reason, it was perhaps the only comfort many a man on this sorrowful dusty world ever had, for all the hope for which it was named.

Livio was eyeing the tiny shot glass in his fingers with some trepidation. Vash pretended not to notice how the man first lightly winced at the strong scent, then clenched his teeth and blinked as it burned down his throat. He took a sip of his own. Oh man. He could not look at Livio now; the memories and the anguish were too strong. He blinked his eyes clear, and gazed out of the open door on the far side of the room to where the moons rose over the desert sands, silhouetting a cross against a raised tomb. Ah yes, this was a fitting return.


End file.
